Classic Poem

The Patent laugh'd at, its supporters gone,
Blank verse depos'd, and silence creeping on!
Aid us, ye Gods! cry'd H — H — — RE , in distress,
Save our great Play-house, and be damn'd the less .
O'er rebel worth let licens'd dulness blaze,
Teach us our willing dignity to raise.
Strong, as our plans , let our performance rise,
And fortune grant us, what our wit denies.
Think, O, ye pow'rs! whose fortunes are at stake,
Let Tragedy succeed, for my lov'd sake;
With tints, like Jack 's, re-touch the faded stage,
'Till it, like Widow W — — k 's charms engage:
The smiling gods these pray'rs, together, sum ,
At once, indulge 'em all — and lo! Tom T HUMB .